


Below the Wall

by Angelfire2021



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-06-18 03:19:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15476529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelfire2021/pseuds/Angelfire2021
Summary: My take on what happened to Benjen Stark after he went below the wall at the start with the intention of joining up in the story along the way.





	1. Chapter 1

“I want to come with you Uncle Benjen.” Jon Snow held tight onto Benjen’s hand. “I can fight, I can be of use.”  
“You are not a Ranger yet my lad.” Benjen gripped Jon on the back of his head and looked deep into his eyes. “You haven’t spent any time beyond the wall, and where we go today, you have no place until you are ready.”  
“I am ready.” Jon protested.  
“You are never truly ready to ride below.” Benjen broke himself free of Jon’s grasp before swinging up onto his black horse. “But if you train hard you might be ready to join us on a scout. I will look in on your training when I return.”  
“Ride well Uncle Benjen.” Jon backed off allowing the riders room to pass  
“Train well Jon Snow.”  
Benjen flicked his reigns, so his mount began to trot forward. The six other men around him did the same, each ducking under the inner gate that led them into the long ice tunnel below the wall. The horse's hooves echoed around the tunnels as they solemnly made their way down through the inner gate and to the large outer gate which men had already opened in anticipation of their arrival.  
The cold blast of air that greeted the Rangers as they passed into the lands beyond the wall made even the bravest of them pull their black fur cloaks close around them and think of warm bunks rather than the many frozen nights ahead of them.   
A shiver went down Benjen’s spine as he looked at the wide expanse that lay before the deep forest and he knew it wasn’t the effect of the cold. There was something about this trip which filled him with dread. They needed to see what was out there and to see if the deserter's report of the White Walkers was true.  
Somehow Benjen knew they were true without having to ride north beyond the wall. They all knew that a long winter was a coming. A winter longer than any man had known for thousands of years. The wildings were moving south in such numbers the Lord Commander feared an attack in the coming months. Mance Rayder had united tribes of wildings that had never worked together in the past.  
The Wildings they had caught had all spoken of the long winter, and many had spoken of the dead that would come with it. Or to be more precise the dead that were already coming with it. Talk of White Walkers and the living coming back as Wights had been the tales folk had told to scare their children or pass long nights around the campfire. Few believed in such things anymore. Especially as the stories told these events that happened over nine thousand years ago.  
Benjen had learned in his harsh life as a ranger that it was folly to ignore any rumours, no matter how far-fetched, and he had never known the wildings to lie about such things before.  
“You don’t believe all this talk do you.” It was Ranger Othor who spoke as he rode alongside Benjen. Benjen wondered if all the Rangers heading north with him were thinking the same thing.  
“I believe a winter is coming as we have never known Othor, and I believe the Wildings are on the move for a reason.”  
“Mance,” Othor said.  
Benjen had known the other Ranger since Othor had staggered into Castle Black ten years ago among another gaggle of prisoners from the south. He’d been caught stealing food to feed his family and decided that taking the Black was better than losing a hand. It turned out that he was a tough man who knew how to survive despite his ungainly appearance. He might not be much of a fighter, but he had a knack for hunting and finding food where others would often fail. A skill in the wilderness that all the other Rangers respected.  
“Maybe. But why would they risk moving towards the wall even with their numbers?”  
“True.” Othor nodded as they rode further towards the forest that for many of them signalled the real start to the north. “But if the legends are true then we won’t have the men we need to hold the wall. You know there are barely a hundred men at Eastwatch.”  
“And getting fewer every year.” Benjen nodded. “I asked Lord Tyrion to tell the King we need help. But I doubt it will come. They sleep in their warm southern beds and talk of ice walls are just stories for them. Few of us in the north believe in tales of wights or walkers in these realms so imagine what it would take to persuade the King he needed to send his troops to defend the Westeros from mythical beasts.”  
“Aye, that is so. They would probably need to see a wight crawling toward them on the palace floor before they would believe it.” Othor pulled his cloak tighter. A biting wind was getting up, tugging at their clothes as if looking for a weakness so the cold could creep in and freeze a man to death. “Even I’m not sure I believe the tales are anything but whispers of the old gods.”  
“Well if the whispers are true we’ll find out soon enough.” Benjen glanced back. Though they were near on a mile away the wall still loomed as giant structure blocking the way to Westeros.   
And he had a strange feeling he would never pass below it again.


	2. Crasters Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first part of their patrol takes them to Craster's keep

“So you seen anything strange lately,” Benjen said before taking a long drink of the warm wine on offer. Beyond the wall was the only place a decent man would stomach warm wine. But in the deep cold, it was a gift from the gods. They hadn’t brought many supplies for the Keep this time; the Watch’s usual way of paying for board and lodgings, but it was enough for Craster to allow them to stay for the night within his walls.  
“I live here Benjen Stark. I always see strange things.” Craster let out a laugh, meat spitting from his mouth and sizzling in the ample fire that kept the room warm. One of his wives was feeding the fire with thick logs, freshly cut by Benjen’s men, while another was serving the warm wine. The rest, Benjen knew, were scattered around the loft rooms that boarded the large hall they were sat in. If he looked up, Benjen could see some of the younger wives peeping above the furs that kept them warm.  
“You know what I mean Craster. There have been Direwolves found south of the wall, rumours of White Walkers and the dead, and we both know a long winter is coming that even the likes of you and I have never seen.”  
“I’ve seen a lot of winters, but I’ve plenty enough to keep me warm.” Craster wrapped his arm around the wife serving the wine and pulled her into him. Benjen could tell the smile on her face was forced.  
“You not heard this talk then? What of the wildings? Even they are coming further south.”  
“Some maybe.” Craster let his wife go but patter her on the backside as she moved away. “Others follow a new leader.”  
“Wildings have no leaders.” Benjen scoffed.  
“They do now. Mark my words.” Craster gnawed at the bones on his plate, spitting some parts into the fire. Bejen could hear his men outside setting up in the Keep’s grounds for the night. He hoped they were behaving an. He didn’t want to lose a man who couldn’t keep his hands’ off Craster’s wives.  
“What is he a Then?”  
“No fucking way. He’s Mance Rayder of course.”  
“So the rumours are true?” Benjen feared they were. Mance was a clever man and a man who knew the ways of the Night’s Watch. If he had united all the Wilding Tribes, then the Watch could be in for some troubling times.  
“They are the rumours I hear,” Craster said.  
“Will they attack the wall?”  
“I don’t know, but I do know they eye the warmer lands with envy. And winter is coming.”  
“It won’t be safe for you soon old man.”  
It was Crasters turn to scoff. “I’ve not lived in this keep for so long without knowing how to survive a long winter. It’s you soft southern boys that need to worry.”  
“A patrol hasn’t been since it set out,” Bejen said. “They were supposed to be ranging towards the Shadow Tower. Did they come this way?  
“Aye.” Craster nodded. “Headed north after I told them the wildings had been seen near the Fist of the first men.”  
Benjen raised their eyebrows. “And how did you know?”  
“I listen to the fucking trees Benjen Stark.” Craster slugged some wine and laughed, his entire belly quivering as he did so. “So I suggest you ride there if you are looking for them.”  
“How many wildings?”   
“The trees don’t tell me everything.” He let out another laugh. “Woman get my pipe.” Another of the wives, old and wrinkled appeared, from a dark corner of the hut carrying a bag from which she produced a pipe and some leaves.”  
“You joining me Benjen. This stuff makes the fucking trees talking.”  
Benjen drained his cup and rose. As much as he was reluctant to leave the comfort of the warm fire he knew there was nothing more to be gained from talking to the old man. While his shelter and news were always welcome, they came at a price, and Benjen always had a feeling Craster’s words weren’t always truthful. He wondered if one of the last Rangers had annoyed the old man, or worse still looked on his wives with lustful eyes. Should that have been the case, then Craster might well have sent them to their deaths.  
Snow was falling when Benjen stepped outside the large hall and into the main part of the keep. With no wind, the flakes tumbled onto the ground like tiny silent ghosts. He trudged through the slush that had formed in front of the main hall and joined his men round their fires under the shelter of the few outbuildings there were near the pig pens. Benjen always thought the name Keep was too good a description for Craster's place. But it was their last chance of warmth and good food before they ranged further north.  
“Where to next?” Othor asked rubbing his hands together over the fire. He’d been making sure the men were staying close and staying true to their word to keep clear of Craster’s wives.  
“He sent the others north on some fool Wilding chase.”  
“Were they for real?”  
“I don’t know.” Benjen shook his head. “But we’ll head up to the Fist tomorrow and see if we can pick up any tracks.  
“Snow has been falling heavy since.” Jafer had stepped up beside them.  
“Well we know where they were going so we’ll see what signs there are.”  
“It doesn’t feel right,” Jafer said. “They were supposed to be ranging near the Shadow Tower.   
“Aye, I know.” Benjen nodded. “But if we are going to find out what is coming with the long night then we have to go north. And come dawn, that’s exactly what’ll we’ll do.”


	3. Fist of the First Men

“What can you see Jafer? You have the best eyes.” Benjen was buried in the snow next to his fellow Ranger. They were behind a ridge closest to the Fist, peering intently for any signs of activity.  
“No movement for sure.” Jafer moved some of the snow with his bare hands to get a better view. “And the storm we’ve had has covered any tracks. There are lumps in the snow though. I don’t like the look of those. Though they could be just drifts whipped up by the wind.”  
“I can see those too.” Benjen knew what the younger man was talking about. His first indication of something out of the ordinary was the lumps in the snow that looked as though they had been around a campfire in the middle of the Fist. If so they could only be one thing. “Anything else? Any danger to us?”   
“Not visible,” Jafer said. “We’d need to scout around though to see if there are any fresh tracks.”  
Benjen nodded. “Take Goran and have a look. But call the others up to the ridge so we can cover you.”  
“As you command.” Jafer slithered back down the snow until it was safe enough to get to his feet without being seen over the other side of the ridge.  
They’d ridden hard for three days since Craster’s keep with a snowstorm hampering their progress and covering any tracks of those who’d gone before them. Now the storm had passed, and they could see the Fist of the first men, though there was no sign of any Rangers or Wildings.   
As he waited with the rest of the Rangers, Benjen watched Jafer and Goran make their way around the ridge, skirting east of the Fist, making as much use of the rocks as they could as cover.  
“I don’t like this.” Othor lay on the ground next to Benjen. “The snow has covered any signs that might let us know what has happened.  
“I know, but we have to see, and darkness is falling,” Benjen said. “We’ll have to camp soon and decide where to go next.”  
“To the Shadow Tower for some warm food and ale.” Othor raised himself onto his elbows as Jafer vanished behind the north side of the Fist.  
“Aye, that would be good. But we still have to find out what happened.”  
“I know.” Othor nodded. “But I’ve not felt this uneasy on a Range for many a year.  
“You mean since your first one when you pissed yourself at first sight of a Wilding woman.”  
“She came at me with an axe. How was I supposed to know she was a mere slip of a girl.”   
“Good job it wasn’t cold like today Othor.” A Ranger on the other side commented. “Your wet balls might have frozen off.”  
“And you can fuck off Finn,” Othor said as the other Rangers laughed. “You shit your pants when Alliser Thorne shouts at you.  
“Quiet.” Benjen held up his hand. “Jafer and Goran had appeared at the east side of Fist and Jafer was giving the all clear signs.  
“Othor, Finn as you two are so full of energy go back and get the horses and find some wood. Meet us on the Fist.”  
Wanting to make the most of the failing light Benjen hurried down the ridge and up onto the natural crown of rocks which was the Fist of the First Men. Jafer was already there and had cleared the snow off a couple of the mysterious mounds.   
“You recognise them,” Benjen asked looking down at two black husks that had once been human. Most of the skin had been burnt off and what was left was showed a horrible disfigured shape.  
“Can’t recognise anything.” Jafer shook his head as he went down on his haunches. But this is a Nights Watch dagger.” He sifted through the black snow around one of the bodies. “And over here it looks like Wilding steel.”  
“So, there was a fight,” Benjen said. “But there are few bodies.”  
“And what’s the betting they are as burnt a this.”  
“Let’s uncover them and find out. We have to know what happened so we can report back.” Benjen moved to the north of the Fist, using it’ height to see as far as possible. The question was do they Range further north to see what else they could find or report back to Castle Black. If the Wildings were massing and growing bolder, then they had to know. Maybe he would send two of them back while the rest of them Ranged further.  
“They are all the same,” Jafer said after four more bodies had been uncovered. They’d been near what was clearly the campfire.   
“How many of ours? Benjen asked.  
“Two I can be sure of. Two are Wildings. But of the others I’m not certain.”  
“So where are the remaining me?.” Benjen turned his gaze north again.  
“That’s the question.” Jafer turned as the horses were being brought into camp with bundles of damp wood hanging at their sides. “Are we camping here?”  
Benjen picked up the trepidation in Jafer’s voice. “Can you recommend any Inns?”  
“A fair point.” Jafer’s tension broke with a laugh. “I’ll get the bodies moved, and we’ll start a fire. Two people on watch at all times through the night?”  
“It should be so.” Benjen agreed.  
Despite his light-hearted words word’s Benjen felt the same fear in his gut that the young Ranger. Nothing seemed right anymore. Nothing seemed normal. If anything North of the wall could ever be called normal. Looking upwards Benjen saw first stars twinkling in the clear sky, and he could already feel the temperature dropping sharply. Tonight was going to be another freezing one where they would be glad of the fire, but Benjen wondered what other eyes would be watching them.  
Benjen feared what the night was going to bring.


	4. Battle on the Fist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They spend the night on the Fist of the First man.
> 
> Do you think they will get a good nights sleep?

“There are unnatural sounds in the air First Ranger.” Benjen’ s eyes snapped open at Othor’s words. All the Rangers with him were not likely to be scared by simple noises in the night, and if Othor had heard something he thought worthy of Benjen’ s attention, then it must be important.

Rolling from under the fur’s he’d used to keep himself warm Benjen came to his feet sword in hand.

“What is it Othor?” He whispered. Around him, all the Rangers were stirring.

“Out beyond the fist,” Othor said. “There is movement, but the clouds dance before the moon, and we can barely see.”

“Shall we put the fire out.” One of the Rangers said.

“No.” Benjen shook his head. “Something tells me we might need its protection.”

“You could be right about that,” Othor said.

“I hear them behind us too.” It was Jafer’s hissed voice.

“They’re everywhere.”  Another Ranger shouted.

“Form a circle round the fire,” Benjen commanded. “Watch each other’s backs. And watch the horses.”

Their mounts were getting spooked, which told Benjen this wasn’t just Wildings approaching, that and fact Wildings wouldn’t be so open with their attacks. Looking out towards the rocks that marked the edge of the Fist he thought he saw shadows looming.

“Can you see them.” He called Jafer.

“These are no Wildings First Ranger. We should get out of here before it’s too late.”

The horses were pulling at their reigns, threatening to break away as the figures crossed the rocks and the flickering flame of their fire cast a light on them.

“By all the gods what are they?” Othor said.

“Wights.” Benjen cursed. “The dead risen again.”

Creatures, barely recognisable as the humans they once were, staggered towards them holding weapons with what was left of their limbs. Rotted faces with torn lips and ears stared blankly into the night. There was no indication of any soul left inside the walking corpses that could make them human. No emotion to make them flee if the fight went against them or allow them to give mercy to any that yielded before their ranks.

A glance around the edge of the Fist told Benjen there were at least thirty Wights on their relentless march towards the small group of Rangers huddled around the fire. Fighting them off was not going to be an option. One of the horses whined and reared up, breaking free before galloping off into the darkness.

“Grab something burning and get to the horses,” Benjen shouted. “We ride hard as we can for Castle Black.” Benjen reached into the fire seizing a branch that was only ablaze at one end. “They have to know what’s coming; they have to be warned.”

The other Rangers followed suit in arming themselves with both a sword and fire before they moved together to the horses. Benjen saw the Wights start to walk away from the blaze.

“Jafer, Othor.” You are the best riders.” As soon as we get to the horses get on them and ride. “We will try to lead them away.”

There were nods but no replies. Those that would be following Benjen knew it would be their doom, but most of them had some family in the rest of the Kingdom they still had some affection for. Any man who looked upon the creatures knew if the horrid things got beyond the wall then Westeros could well fall.

They reached the horses as another of terrified mounts threatened to break free. Othor threw himself onto the reigns holding it down before vaulting onto its back with surprising nimbleness for a big man.

“They come.” Benjen was about to grab one of the other horses when a group of Wights urged forward. The First Ranger jumped in front of them, waving the burning stick that for a moment halted the half-dozen Wights before he plunged his blade into the nearest and span on his heels to behead a skinny one to his left.

As other Wights pressed another Ranger stepped up beside Benjen, and two more of the creatures fell. One armed with a spear lunged at Benjen before the First Ranger smashed the branch into what could loosely be described as a face. A Wight came at him from the left, but as he turned to meet them, he was again joined by one of the party who cut it down.

“Jafer, get out of here,” Benjen screamed as he cleaved a Wight that was barely a skeleton in two.

“For the Watch.”

Benjen heard Jafer and Othor’s cry and sensed the horses begin their gallop. There was a scream to his left as three Wights overwhelmed the Ranger and knocked him to the ground. Forcing some of the assailants back Benjen tried to help the stricken man, but there were too many. Another cry to his right told him another Ranger was defeated.

Benjen knew he needed to buy the others some time and throwing his brand at the Wights he stumbled back to the two remaining horses. The last Ranger was desperately trying to untangle the reigns as the panicking horses reared up, it’s front hooves smashing into the heads of any Wights that came near. The orange glow of the fire lit up the Rangers face, and Benjen could see the look of terror right before a spear was thrust into the man’s back. The horse the Ranger was trying to bring under his control bolted.

There was one horse, Benjen’s horse, that remained and the First Ranger was amazed at how calm it seemed with the dead surrounding them both. He freed the reigns and leapt onto it’s back as it dealt with some of the enemies by kicking out with its hind legs. Benjen swung his sword and beheaded two more before directed his grey horse to flee.

“We need to give the others a chance old friend.” He shouted as they plunged into the mass of the Wights and Benjen in the opposite direction to where Jafer and Othor were heading.

Benjen smashed his sword down on both sides, and while he could dispatch the Wights with ease, he knew their sheer numbers were the issue. One clung to his right side forcing him to smash it on the head with the hilt of his sword before trying to shake another of his legs. His horse rose up again, this time crushing undead with its forelegs before jumping up and ploughing through the ranks of Wights.

Then they broke through. The Wights were behind them, and Benjen realised they might make it after all. He glanced to his right to see if there was any sign of the others. Two torches could be seen making their way rapidly southwards. Deciding to keep on his mission to lead the Wights away Benjen gripped the reigns and looked ahead of him.

Even in the dark of night, the pale warrior in his path stood out.

But it was the blue eyes Benjen noticed most of all.


End file.
